The effects of the chemo had become compounded; it took longer for her to recover every time and I found myself in an uncomfortable place where I was doing math to gauge the quality of her life: # bad days + # ok days + # good days = time to go back for more chemo.

I don’t regret treating the cancer, but it was hard on her. That’s difficult to think about, and I’m not sure if it was right… but ultimately I haven’t second-guessed the decision because I am so beyond deeply grateful for the extra time I’ve had with her.

When Paul said it was time to stop chemo, I really struggled. Even though I didn’t DISAGREE, it was so hard to accept.

But at the very beginning of all of this, I had told myself that I would listen and TRUST Paul’s judgement about the hard decisions because my own line in the sand would be impaired.

The time since stopping the chemo has been wonderful… the cancer was in remission, she gained weight, got some new nonsensical-nicknames, got her whiskers back, and would occasionally tear through the house, being chased by whatever invisible demons plague cats.

But she has begun having the same symptoms that got her diagnosed in the first place… which means remission has ended and the cancer is back.

She is still hanging in there and doing well; we are treating her symptoms, and she is responding… but we have had a few days where I thought: this is the tipping point.

Right now I feel like we are living on the edge of a cliff: it’s strange how everything is FINE there! As long as you are STILL ON THE EDGE.

However. It is impossible to forget that once you fall over, things are going to become problematic REALLY FAST.

Paul and Elvis, napping at the beach… he probably won’t thank me for using this photo, but I love it.

I also love this one below, because it sums up why I love Paul.

He said– there, I’ve fixed Elvis for you.

***insert words about my feelings, because I typed a whole bunch, cried, deleted it, walked away, rewrote it, but still not expressing myself. so, just THIS FACE.***

I’m so sorry. So sorry. Your cat has known a fantastic and wonderful life. He’s been loved beyond measure. I hope just knowing that gives you some comfort. I hate that you are having to go through this. :o(

As soon as I saw the title of this post I got worried. Now I have tears in my eyes but am happy that you are still getting to be with Elvis and love her in person. Collectively we readers will do everything we can to send you positive vibes of support.

My heart breaks for you. We love our pets. They bring joy, comfort, laughter into our lives. When Elvis crosses the Rainbow Bridge, know that he will be waiting there for you. I can’t imagine heaven without our loved ones AND our faithful pets. My thoughts are with you.

Feeling your heart wrenching pain!! Our senior girl just turned 16 and we thought she had just a UTI. Turns out she has a rare malignant growth only seen in dogs (survival rate 6-8 month) so no history on how it affects cats. Inoperable as removing could cause incontinence or paralysis. She seems not to be in pain any distress – enjoying each day with her a a gift. Breaks my heart to think she will not be with us for much longer. ???

I know you are cherishing the days you have with her. The deeper the love, the harder it is when they leave us. They become so important to us and their lives are just a vapor ! It doesn’t seem fair. Hugs from a stranger for both you and Elvis

I feel your pain. My baby dog, Lotus, is in a similar situation. She is 14, and has carcinoma of the salivary glands. We did the fancy surgery, we did the chemo, and she felt like hell. So we have stopped, and are treating the symptoms, and she seems happy, but a little wonky from the drugs. However, we hang on and hope for more time. It is so hard to decide when the time has ended. I hope they let us know so we don’t have to make that decision. <3

Elvis is a well loved girl and she knows it. What better life could she have had than the one she’s had with you? I hope you’ll find comfort in remembering, when the time comes, that you loved her beyond measure and she knew it.

This is cliche, but I still believe it is far better to have loved and lost than never to have loved at all. Wishing Elvis, you and Paul peace as well as the courage and strength to let go when it is time. Enjoy these precious moments together

We have a wonderful, sweet dog named Frisco. He was diagnosed with diabetes several years ago. We give him insulin twice a day, which keeps us on a pretty tight schedule. My husband and I can’t travel together, because leaving Frisco with someone else is just too much work. Most of the time, I send my husband off and I stay home with our sweet, half blind (cataracts/surgery/good luck-bad luck) furry kid.

It’s ironic, because I was the one who said I didn’t want another dog. I didn’t want to get attached, have my heart broken, deal with the aftermath. Now I’m the one who bristles and jumps to his defense when anyone mentions how they would “deal with the situation.” Is it inconvenient? Sure. Do I get weary of the schedule, the expense, the mornings of begging him to eat when he doesn’t feel like it? Yes.

But when he’s snuggling between us on the bed at night, or chasing our grandson around the kitchen island, or just sitting patiently waiting for his eye drops, insulin and cookie, I realize it’s all worth it. And I’d do it again.

Blessings to you, Paul and Elvis. Nothing compares to the love and companionship of a good pet.

“But at the very beginning of all of this, I had told myself that I would listen and TRUST Paul’s judgement about the hard decisions because my own line in the sand would be impaired.”

That is love – on both your and Paul’s part. I am so sad for all of you. I’m hoping that her last days, however many there may be, will be days of love and joy, many purrs and treats, and great and abiding affection. Much love and hugs.